June First

by Jennifer Hartmann

“We’re going to tell really scary stories.” Another chill rushes down my spine. “How scary?” “You’ll probably have nightmares for the rest of your life.” Ghouls, goblins, and wicked witches cackle in my mind, causing me to pick up my pace until I’m right beside Brant. “Will you protect me, Brant?” He switches off the flashlight and stuffs it into his pocket. “You know I will. I’ll always protect you.” “What if I die, and you can’t save me?” I reach for his arm and cling hard, nearly stumbling through the grass. “What if you die?” “Whoa, hey…” He stops suddenly, facing me, both of his hands gripping my shoulders. He’s taller than me—a lot taller. He’s tall and strong, and he makes me feel safe. “Why are you asking these things, Junebug?” “Because it’s Halloween, and scary stuff happens on Halloween.”

“Yeah, but not that sort of scary stuff. You should be thinking about ghosts and jack-o’-lanterns, not—” His words clip short, and his eyes seem to fog over. Brant stares off just beyond me with shadows swirling in his faraway gaze, but before I can question where he’s gone, he’s back. He returns to me, and he’s normal Brant again. “Don’t think about those things. Promise me, June.” He must be mad. He called me June instead of Junebug, just like when Mama hollers at me and says my full name: June Adeline Bailey. I gulp, nodding my head. “I promise. I swear it.” “Good.”

“This is so good, Brant. You’re the best cook ever.” I still feel rattled, but I force a smile. “Only the best for you.” “You don’t love Wendy more than me, right?” “What?” Her question takes me off guard, so I turn my body until I’m fully facing her. “Why would you ask me that?” She shrugs, her hair starting to dry beneath the setting sun. “You looked at her funny. You always look at her funny when she comes over.” “I don’t…” My mind races with a proper response. “I don’t love Wendy at all. I could never love anyone more than I love you.” “You mean it?” Her eyes widen to sky-like orbs, looking even bluer outside in the natural light. “Of course I mean it.” “You went to sit with her today instead of playing with me.” A tinge of guilt ripples through me. “I’m sorry, June… I didn’t mean to upset you. The older we get, the more friends we’re going to have, so my time will be divided. But you have to know that you’ll always be the most important thing in my life. Theo’s too.”

She’s my rainbow after the storm.

“Please don’t hate me, Brant,” she says, pressing her face into the front of my shirt. She inhales deeply, then nuzzles her nose against the cotton. The gesture sends an illicit tremor through me. “Promise me.” I swallow back the poison and hope it doesn’t choke me. “That would be impossible,” I say, and it’s as honest as I’ve ever been. With her cheeks between my palms, I tug her head back gently, gazing down at her. My thumbs brush along her skin, collecting the new falling tears. “I can only love you. There’s no other way.”

“You mean it?” “Of course I mean it.”

If my father hadn’t murdered my mother, I would still just be the neighbor boy and she would be the girl next door. Instead, he branded us with a label, forced me into something twisted. He turned the only girl I’ve ever wanted into the only girl I can never have. But I still love her.

“Thank you,” I croak out, my throat raspy and raw, my voice tired but strong. My heart bruised but free of the heavy weights. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“You might not notice, but I always spritz myself with vanilla-scented body mist on my birthday,” she tells me. I notice. I hate that I notice. She continues, pressing her forehead to mine. “I picked it up at a bath and body shop years ago, and the bottle is still practically full. I only use it once a year. It’s called Sweet Desserts.” Her thumbs massage just below my ears, and her breath kisses my mouth as she speaks. “I bought it because you used to tell me that your mom smelled like desserts. I know my birthday is the same day she…” She swallows, glances up at me. “Well, you know. I wanted to give you a reminder of her every June first—a happy reminder. A sweet memory hidden in the sadness.” A sound falls out of me that I can’t take back. A choking, painful sound. And if she’d listened close enough, if she’d just strained her ear, she would have heard exactly what that sound said. I’m hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you, June Bailey. The desperate, aching kind of love. The kind there’s no coming back from.

The kind there’s no way out of. The kind that’s going to be the death of me one day. I fall more in love with June than I ever thought possible as we clutch each other in a moonlit graveyard on her eighteenth birthday, with my mother on my mind and the scent of sweet desserts dancing in the air.

My skin prickles with dread as I watch him approach me, and only then do my eyes slide over to his left, landing on a familiar man in uniform. But it’s not Theo. It’s Kip—wearing that same pained expression. It’s Kip. Why is Kip here? Where is Theo? Why is Brant walking over to me, tugging at his hair, still shaking his head with tears in his eyes, as if he’s trying to tell me something that’s too awful to be said with words? The crowd seems to part as the two men approach me on the dance floor, while I just stand there, frozen like a statue. Time stops. Everything around me moves in slow motion. A song is playing, something happy and upbeat. And then it hits me. It hits me. My heart drops out of me, straight to the floor, and so do I. I buckle.

I collapse before they reach me. I collapse into a pile of horror, screaming with disbelief. I’m screaming. Brant races toward me, too late to catch me. But he still tries, sliding to his knees and wrapping his arms around me, holding me close as I disintegrate. We sob and we shake, clutching each other while people gather around and the music cuts out, the happy song replaced by my horrible screams. And it’s there on the dance floor, amid balloons and ball gowns, that I have my first full-fledged asthma attack.

June lifts up slightly when the song fades into silence, dragging Aggie over my hip and placing him in my lap. Her voice is scratchy as she says, “Take him, Brant. He’s a good friend.” I look down at the well-loved toy with ratty fur and wrinkled ears. Some of the plush is rubbed raw, the white inner stitching peeking through from where June gave him one too many kisses or held him a little too tightly. I shake my head. “No, he’s yours.” “I want you to have him. You already lost Bubbles, and I broke my promise. I never found him for you.” “I don’t need Bubbles anymore,” I tell her softly, pressing a kiss to her hair. “I’m okay.” Her eyes draw up to mine, wide and watery. “You only say you’re okay so you can be strong for me. But I know you’re not. You’re in need of comfort, too.” “I have comfort, June,” I say. Cupping the back of her head with my palm, I pull her back down to my chest and braid my fingers through her long, limp hair. I sigh, a smile breaking through as she curls back in to me. “I have you.”

Brant: I know you’re not okay. I know you were lying, and I know that because I know you better than anyone else in this world. You wear your heart in your eyes, Junebug, and I can see that your heart is torn apart. Mine is, too. Over Theo, over abandoning you, and over what happened between us at the dance. It may have started with a dare, but that’s not where it ended. We both know that, we were both responsible for letting it escalate, and we’ve both thought about doing it again. A breath catches in my throat as another message comes through. Brant: I know that scares you. I know you’re afraid and confused, but you don’t have to be. We’re not going to do it again. I’m not going to risk losing the most important thing in my life over a moment of weakness. An indiscretion that, right now, can be filed away as a lapse in judgment. It was just a blip. We’re still the same people. I’m still Brant, and you’re still June. Tears trickle down my cheeks, recalling the night I said those very words to him as I crawled into his bed, desperate for him to chase my nightmares away. Brant: I’m still that same boy who loves you with everything he is, who wants to be your comfort and your courage, and who would use his dying breaths to sing you your favorite lullaby. That kiss meant something, but it wasn’t everything. We’re going to move past it. We’re going to be bigger than it. We have to be…because we’ve already lost too much.

Three last words pop up, and I break down. Brant: I love you. Falling sideways onto my bed, I pull the covers up to my chin and squeeze Aggie tight, my heart seizing with both relief and fear. Relief because we’re going to forget about it. Fear because I’m not sure we can. I stare at the bluebird on my wall with blurry eyes, thinking about that kiss, thinking about the wings it grew and how I tried to clip them. Realizing and knowing that they may not rise… They may not soar… But clipped wings can still fly.

I’m about to say my good-nights when Brant speaks first. “Do you want to come inside?”

Shaking my head, I smile with apology. “I can’t. I have a date tonight.” Brant stiffens. Everything about him goes rigid as he looks away from me, the cords in his neck prominent as his muscles twitch. He stares out the windshield in silence. No reply. Desperate for some kind of response, I begin to stammer, “I–I’m free tomorrow from—” “I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but the thought of another man putting his hands on you makes me borderline murderous.” I almost choke.

“Another?” A beat passes. “What?” “You said another man. Did you mean someone other than…you?”

“God, I’m sorry. That was really—” “Yes.” His voice is low and husky. He stares at me as my head pops back up, his eyes alight with wild embers. “That’s what I meant.”

“Well, good night,” he mutters, unbuckling his seat belt and reaching for the door handle. “Come by this week. I’ll cook for us.” I nod swiftly. “Okay. Sure.” I’m this close to becoming a statue as I sit there with both hands curled around the steering wheel, my spine straight, my chest feeling stacked with weights. Brant’s shoes crunch along the gravel as he gets out of the car and moves around the rear, stopping at the driver’s side. I see him in my peripheral vision, hesitating, debating his next move. And then he sweeps over to me in a quick blink and leans in through the open window, his hand extending, cupping my face until I turn my head and we’re eye to eye. “My offer still stands. About moving in with me,” he says gently, his thumb grazing my jaw. A smile whispers on his lips, and his eyes twinkle with genuine affection. With love. “Be safe tonight. I worry about you.” Before I can respond with more than a pathetic little whimper, he pulls back and walks away.

“Hi,” he says softly. He shakes himself from the daze, taking slow steps forward and ruffling his hair again. “What, uh…what are you doing here?” He wipes at his mouth. My stomach pitches, envisioning that mouth on hers. “My answer is yes.” “Your answer?” Another step forward. “To what?” “Moving in with you.” Dipping his gaze lower and to the left, he finally spots my overnight bags, still zipped and full. Still waiting for permission. He swallows, glancing back up at me. “Okay. Right.” “Okay?” I nibble my lip, my fingernails leaving tiny crescents on my palms. “You’re not mad that I just showed up unannounced?” “You’re always welcome.” My throat feels like I swallowed needles as I take a few tentative steps toward him. “This was what I wanted to talk to you about,” I say. “At dinner.” A flash of guilt lights up his eyes, and he ducks his head. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to stand you up, I just felt obligated to give her a ride home and—” “Did you have sex with her?” I blurt out. The air leaves the room as my cheeks flood with heat. My knees are quivery, hardly stable. My chest hums with prickling anxiety. Brant is silent as the question echoes off the unfurnished plaster walls, his chin lifting back up as his eyes settle on me. It takes an eternity for him to reply. “No. It didn’t go that far.” “You…you stopped it?”

He pulls his lips between his teeth, shaking his head. “She did.” Jealousy thunders through me—the most loathsome, most venomous of all the human emotions. Tears rush to my eyes as my hands curl into fists. “June…” He descends on me, concern radiating from his worried eyes. “June, talk to me. You look like I just ripped your heart out.” My bottom lip trembles, so I chomp down on it, flicking my head back and forth. “I don’t understand,” Brant murmurs, moving in until we’re toe-to-toe. His hand raises, his knuckles skimming my flushed cheek. “You told me to. You said I should go out with her.” “I–I know… You should. I’m sorry.” I’m not sure what to say or how to explain away this ridiculous reaction. All I can think to do is run from it. “I should go. I didn’t mean to just show up like this. It was rude and presumptuous.” Pulling away from his touch, I sweep around him and march my way to the front door. I don’t grab my bags, but I’ll come back for them. It’s fine. I just need to go. When I reach the door, I twist the brass knob and tug it open, prepared to dart into the hallway and escape this mess of confusion. Only, I’m stopped short when a hand plants against the door right above my head, slamming it shut. I draw in a sharp breath. He’s right behind me, his chest brushing along my back as he cages me in. Swallowing hard, I squeak out, “Brant…” Electricity hisses all around us.

Brant leans in, his lips caressing my ear and sending a shiver up my spine. “Tell me why the thought of me having sex with someone else bothers you.” I inhale another choppy breath. He remains flush against me, his warmth causing me to overheat. “Else?” I mutter, licking my lips. The word comes out shaky. Everything is shaky. “Did you mean someone other than…me?” A sigh leaves him. A sigh that sounds like want and yearning. A sigh that sounds like I should go. “Yes,” he whispers, his head drawing up. Another few seconds pass before he moves back over me, resting his forehead on the crown of my head. “That’s what I meant.”

“You know, I wish I could tell you this was just some fleeting fixation, something perverse and temporary…an itch I want to scratch,” I tell him, my tone low and gritty. “Would that make me a twisted creep? Probably. But at least it wouldn’t hurt half as much as it does right now, being desperately in love with her, unable to see a future with anyone but her…not being able to live a normal, healthy life as a single man because I already belong to someone I can’t even touch.”

“It’s not fair.” “What’s not fair?”

“Your face.” I frown. “My face isn’t fair?” “No. Not at all.” “Why?” I almost laugh,

“It’s not fair that your face is so perfect, a piece of art on display that I’m not allowed to touch. I should only adore it from afar, even though its beauty calls to me. Even though I’m convinced it was created just for me.” Her eyelashes flutter as she sways, as if she’s drunk on more than rum or whiskey, as if she’s drunk on her own words. “It’s not fair that it holds two eyes that look at me the way they do, like they were made for seeing only me. It’s not fair that it has lips that I’ve memorized, that I can’t forget, and a tongue I’ve dreamed about tasting me over and over again.” June lifts her hand, pressing the pads of two fingertips to her mouth. She adds huskily, “And not just here.”

I’m about to tell her to put some clothes on and collect her things when her hand slowly travels down my chest, over my abdomen, then grazes the swollen bulge between my legs. “I bet this isn’t fair either,” she whispers, her voice full of smoke. “I bet it would wreck me.” Holy shit. I audibly groan, my better judgment snapping in two as I lean down and snatch her up by the thighs, coiling her legs around my hips. She squeaks in surprise as I carry her to the nearby couch and collapse backwards with June in my lap. She falls against me while I fall further under her spell. June continues to rub my erection, her breaths morphing into quick pants and her skin flushing pink before me. She writes a little, seeking friction, then uses her opposite hand to shove my face between her bikini-clad breasts. Another moan pours out of me, and I’m certain I’m going to come in my pants in about five seconds.

“Maybe we don’t need to talk at all. If you want me,” she says breathily, “you can have me.”

“You want to know what’s not fair?”

“It’s not fair that I can’t have the woman I’m madly in love with, who’s wriggling around in my lap, stroking me through my jeans, telling me that my cock would fucking wreck her.”

She waits, nearly trembling, as I lower my face to her creamy white skin, my eyelids fluttering closed as I inhale her citrus scent. My nose grazes the expanse of her stomach, skimming downward, over the hemline of her underwear, until the smell of lemon drops is replaced by the feminine musk between her legs seeping through the thin lace. A gravelly groan leaves me as my nose nuzzles into the juncture between her legs. Damp and hot. I breathe her in, still clutching at her hips so hard I’m afraid I’m going to hurt her. June whimpers as her shaky hands make their way to my hair, fingers sifting. Nails grazing my scalp. Her pelvis jerks up, just slightly, like it’s instinct, like she’s silently begging me to sample her. Her legs spread farther apart. And I lose it. I fucking lose it. I trail my fingers underneath the hem of her panties, yanking them down past her knees. Then I bend over and bury my face between her thighs. June cries out. She lets out a sharp, primal moan as her hips thrust up against my mouth and her nails carve into my scalp. I feast on her. Untamed. Untethered. Hungry. Her wetness rolls across my mouth as I plunge my tongue deep inside her, in and out, my groans mingling with her desperate mewls. After tugging her underwear all the way off, I glide one hand

up her body, beneath the silk fabric of her dress, until I’m cupping her breast, while my other hand holds her firmly to me. “Brant, oh God…oh my God…” she chants, panting and writhing beneath me. She hooks one leg along my upper back, the other dangling off the side of the couch. I grab it, wrapping it around my shoulder until her bottom half is lifted off the cushion, her thighs clamping my face as she tugs at my hair. As I palm her breast, tweaking her nipple, she arches into me, and I drag my mouth to her clit, flicking it with my tongue and sucking it between my teeth. “Ooh,” she moans, thrusting harder against my face. “Oh, Brant…Brant…oh, shit…” Jesus Christ, the noises she’s making. The way she’s panting my name as her body shamelessly thrashes and throbs under my tongue. The way she grips my hair, her spine arching, her skin flushed bright pink while I eat her out. I’m eating her out. I’m eating her out like a fucking animal on my living room couch. My cock is rock-hard and raging in the confines of my pants as her sweet nectar fills my mouth, her wetness pooling. I push two fingers inside her, pumping furiously while my name spills from her lips over and over, my tongue still working her to climax. Still fucking her with my fingers, I use my other hand to unbuckle my belt and yank my zipper down, my erection aching for freedom. My tongue continues to pleasure her, laving and licking, as I wrap my hand around my dick and jerk myself while she unravels.

Her body tenses, bracing for release, and a tapered groan falls out of me as I murmur against her, “Fuck, June…you’re going to come all over my mouth, aren’t you?” She shudders, bucking upward. “Y-Yes…God, yes…please, Brant, don’t stop…” I stroke myself harder as she begs me, my own orgasm building. “Fuck,” I repeat, my body trembling with need as I curl my fingers inside her, still sucking her clit until I feel her peaking. She’s gasping and panting. Clenching her thighs. Riding my face as I feast and suck and ravish her with my tongue and fingers. And then a sharp cry catches in her throat, her breath hitching, her body vibrating with the swell of orgasm. I let go of myself to palm her outer thigh, holding her firmly against me as I continue to work her. She fists my hair at the roots and throws...

June bites at her lip. Her glassy eyes travel south, to where my pants are pushed down my hips, landing on my red and angry erection. It hangs heavy between my legs, the tip glistening with precum. Pulsing with the need to be inside her. I’m not sure if I should apologize or kiss her. I’m not sure if I should take this further or lock myself in my bedroom and jerk off with her honey still on my tongue. Unrehearsed words start to spill out of me as I lower myself over her, until we’re face-to-face and I’m brushing a piece of knotted hair from her eyes. “Shit…June, I—” “Make love to me.” Her words whip through me like a windstorm as our eyes tangle together, her hand trailing downward and wrapping around my cock. My eyes snap shut, forcing back the wave of pleasure that floods me the moment she fists me. I grit my teeth through a groan, then tug her dress all the way up her body, over her head, discarding it to the floor. Moving back up to my knees, I gaze down at her. Completely bare. Utterly vulnerable. Her full breasts heave with each breath, her nipples pebbled and wanting. Lust glitters back at me in pools of light blue. June. My sweetest blessing and greatest sin.

“I should look for a condom,” I mutter, my voice full of grit. She shakes her head. “No. I want to feel you…” Her hands rove down my shoulder blades, as if soaking up the feel of my bare skin, then travel back up to muss my hair. “All of you.” “Fuck, June…” I cradle her cheeks between my palms, my thumb dusting over her lips. Wide eyes stare back at me, gleaming with hunger and nerves. She’s nervous, I can tell. “Are you sure? We don’t have to—” My words are cut short when she lifts up and crushes her mouth to mine. I melt into her, my eyes closing as a groan rumbles in my throat. Our tongues instantly twist and twine, delicious familiarity spurring us both, wrapping us in a blanket of lust and misdeed. Her release still coats my lips as I angle my face, tasting her deeper, my tongue filling every inch of her mouth. I only pull back to whisper raggedly, “Can you taste what I did to you?” She whimpers, her legs coiling around my hips, then she sweeps her tongue along the roof of my mouth. “Yes,” she says in a squeaky breath. “Do it again.” God.

She squirms beneath me, panting, her mewls vibrating in my ears. Holy shit—she’s tight. So fucking tight. Fisting her hair and dragging my tongue up her collarbone to the sweet curve of her neck, I shove all the way inside with a satisfied moan. Then I freeze with stunned shock. A strangled gasp escapes her, and she bites down on my shoulder to stifle the pain. No way. I lift up as her head falls back. Our eyes lock. No fucking way. I felt that. I. Felt. That. Like I just tore through a precious barrier that I had no right to breach. An avalanche of conflicting emotions chokes me— Horror. Confusion. Relief. A sickening, animalistic rush that has my blood pumping hot and my hips starting to move as if of their own volition, despite the knowledge that I just stole June’s virginity. June was a virgin. Our eyes are still holding tight as I rasp, “How…” She shakes her head a little, like she doesn’t want to address it. She doesn’t want to talk. She doesn’t want to stop. My forehead drops to hers again as my teeth clench. “I’ll go slow.”

“No, don’t,” she squeaks out. Fuck. She shouldn’t say that when I’m sheathed inside her—knowing I’m the only man who’s ever been inside her. I rock my hips, forcing myself to go slow despite her request otherwise, then cup her face between my palms with our foreheads melded and noses kissing. My fingertips slip into her hair, my thumbs bruising her cheeks while our bodies move together. “Am I hurting you?” I muster, trying not to lose all control. “No. Keep going.” Her nails are digging into the skin at the nape of my neck, her legs wrapped around me, tugging me close. “God, you feel so good…” I pick up speed. I can’t help it.

I clutch her hips for leverage as I rut into her, my teeth clamping around her breast and causing her to shudder. She’s mewling and scratching me, dragging her nails up and down my shoulders. I move back up, nibbling her earlobe and whispering, “Were you saving it for me, June?” My hand dips between our joined bodies, my fingers finding her clit. “Were you saving this for me?” She cries out, thighs clenching tight. “Yes.”

“Fuck…” My cock thrusts into her, our skin slapping together, our mutual moans growing louder as my mouth finds hers for a sloppy kiss. I curl a hand around the ivory expanse of her throat, squeezing gently, like I’m claiming what’s always been mine. My other hand still works her clit, guiding her to another orgasm—desperate for her to dive over this jagged, fucked-up cliff with me. I should be making this magical for her. Carrying her to my bed and worshiping her beneath cool, clean sheets until she’s sleepy and satiated, until sunrise douses us in a red-orange glow, until she’s wrapped up in my arms while divine deities sing her to sleep. But this isn’t a watered-down fairy tale. This is messy, urgent…fucking hot. I’m wrecking her with every furious thrust, my tongue knotting with hers, one hand wrapped around her throat as the other pulls another orgasm out of her. My own release is mounting as I slam into her tight heat, grunting against her mouth, “I’m going to come in you.” “Please,” she whimpers. I tug her hair back. “You want my cum?” Her body tenses, legs squeezing me with a viselike grip. She starts to tremble with the onset of her second climax. “Yes, Brant, please…” Smashing my lips to hers, I continue to rub her clit until she explodes underneath me: fireworks, embers, falling stars. She breaks apart, gasping and chanting my name, and I break right along with her.

She gently presses a kiss to my mouth, our bodies slick and sticky. “Look at me, Brant,” she says, her voice cracked and worn from her cries of pleasure. “See me.” My eyelids flutter, mimicking my worried heart. I hold her tighter. “Did…did I hurt you?” “No.” Opening my eyes all the way, I search for the truth in her wide-eyed gaze. But all I can focus on is the lone tear trickling down her cheek, collapsing onto the armrest of the couch. A frown claims me, my body tensing with concern, and I lift up.

return moments later with a warm damp cloth. June is sitting up, her knees now pressed together, lips trembling. “I’m okay, Brant,” she tells me as I approach. “I’m fine.” “You’re not okay. God, I wrecked you…” Falling to my knees in front of her, I use one hand to gently part her legs. I swallow. “I’m sorry.” “Please…don’t be sorry. I wanted it as much as you did.” As her thighs spread before me, revealing the evidence of my crime, my ribs ache with the weight of my grief. “I wasn’t gentle. I wasn’t kind.” I dab the damp cloth to her juncture, wincing when she hisses again. “I did this to you.” She asked me to make love to her, and instead I fucked her raw and dirty on my couch. I made her bleed. I came inside of her with no protection, and I growled filthy things into her ear. I’m a monster. “Brant…” June leans forward, her eyes glistening, hair a matted mess. Mascara is streaked above her cheekbones. She clasps my jaws in her trembling palms as she pleads, “Don’t regret this. Don’t regret me.” “I regret how it happened,” I confess, still blotting the cloth to her tender core. Trying to erase my infraction. “I should have made it special for you.”

“It was special.” Her fingertips graze along my stubbled jawline, whispering over my lips. “It was with you.”

Emotion swells in my chest, causing it to feel tight and smothered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your couch,” I say softly. Meekly. Pathetically. Brant sucks in a sharp breath, his expression turning even more haunted. His gaze flicks over me, like he’s taking a moment to absorb my words. He’s letting them in, letting them fester. Then he drops the rag and closes the gap between us, reaching for me. He pulls me straight to him until our foreheads crash together and he’s holding me in a stormy grip. “Don’t,” he whispers, his hands clinging to my waist. “Don’t you dare apologize for anything.” “I feel like I need to. You’re upset… I can tell.” “I’m upset because of what I did—not you. Never you.” My hands lift, settling on his denim-clad hips. “You did exactly what I wanted you to do,” I confess in a soft breath. “Hurt you? Steal away your innocence? Make you bleed?” “Heal me. Accept my innocence as a gift I gave you. Make me come…twice.” His eyes darken, flashing with lingering heat from the night before. “I wanted you to make love to me, and that’s what we did.”

“That wasn’t…” His eyes squeeze shut as his fingers tighten around my waist. “I lost control. Your first time is supposed to be slow and sweet, tender and kind. I took you like a fucking animal, June. I couldn’t stop, and I hate myself for it.” He blows out a breath. “Are you on the pill?” “Yes. Mom got me on a prescription a few years ago, just to be proactive.” Tears prickle my eyes. My heart aches seeing him so fractured. So conflicted and torn. I raise a hand, cupping his jaw as I brush my thumb over his bottom lip. “And I wish you wouldn’t feel that way. It was perfect.” “Don’t say that,” he rasps out. His tongue pokes out, tasting the pad of my thumb, sending shivers down my back. “Don’t allow me to believe you wanted it like that. Especially when you’re standing in my arms, dressed only in my T-shirt, still smelling like last night’s sins.” I arch into him, a whimper slipping out when he catches my thumb between his teeth. “Believe it,” I tell him. “It’s the truth.” Brant groans as his hands start to move, grazing up the back of my thighs and palming my bare bottom, our foreheads still melded together, our lips a mere whisper apart. He pulls my pelvis flush against him as he says, “Then lie to me.” Lie to him? Lie to the man who has only ever shown me truth? True strength…true meaning…true love. No. I can’t. I won’t. Biting my lip, I shake my head.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were still a virgin?” The question sounds pained. It sounds as if my choice of chastity has physically wounded him. My shoulders shrug with an air of flippancy, even though I feel anything but. “I wasn’t aware you didn’t know.” “I heard you, June. I heard you tell your friends you were having sex three years ago.” “I…”

“I made up a story to fit in. I didn’t know you heard me.”

“Brant…” I step forward, trying to close that gap between us again, but he backs away and my heart sinks. “It’s not important, okay? It’s not.” “How can you say that?” He swallows, shaking his head. “Were you…actually saving it for me? Because a bombshell like that sounds a hell of a lot different today than it did last night in the heat of the moment.” I curl my fingers into fists and drop my eyes to the floor. “I don’t know, Brant,” I murmur. “Maybe. But it wasn’t something I was ever consciously aware of. All I knew was that no man ever made me feel

the way you have, so it never felt right. I wanted to wait for someone special.” “But why would you give it up to me when you know we can never be together? That’s not special, June. That’s heartbreaking.” Now I’m the wounded one. A breath catches, and I swallow it down. “I know it’s complicated, but—” “Complicated?” Brant exhales a deep breath, linking his hands behind his head. He spins away from me, then pivots back. “This is more than complicated. This is impossible.” “Nothing is impossible when two people love each other.” “You’re not supposed to love me like that,” he says, breathing hard, jaw clenching. “It’s different for me. I entered your life already knowing you weren’t my blood. I conditioned myself to believe you weren’t my sister for dark, painful reasons—for survival—but you…” Brant’s eyes glaze over with his own grief. “You were born believing I was your biological family. You had no reason to feel otherwise.” “You don’t know how I’ve felt. You couldn’t possibly.” “You’ve spent your entire goddamn life calling me your brother,” he argues, tone escalating. “Because I had to.” “No. Because it’s true.” I shake my head. “Stop trying to pick apart my feelings like they’re yours to dissect,” I say through the lump in my throat. “Stop trying to twist this into something acceptable when you know damn well that I’m your broth—” “You’ve never felt like my brother!”

“Theo was my brother. You’ve only ever felt like…mine.”